Quieter Than Silence
by x-HotMess
Summary: Drag my teeth across your chest to taste your beating heart. JONAS. Nick/Macy


The truth of his life is that it's all a lie.

_The saints can't help me now,  
__the ropes have been unbound._

And he can't pretend he doesn't see what he does anymore. The entire world's a stage and the curtain is about to fall.

All the words that fall out of their mouths, they shattered on the floor in front of him. They drip from tongues like poisoned honey that tastes so sweet but choke in his throat. His head is spinning from the uncertainty; who is merely an image, a mirage, appearing to be there, but in reality they are simply flickering colours and sweet deception. An imitation of a personality.

You think you know someone. You want to believe that they're different; you have faith in that connection, the invisible ties binding two minds to the same idea, same values, same heart. But how can anyone ever be certain that the ties are strong enough, or if they are even there in the first place?

Maybe he just wanted to believe they was there. Maybe he imagined them, just to feel like these people were more than just bone and muscle, that in life you can find souls to merge with without trepidation or fear of judgement. But everyone has a gavel that comes swinging down when they look at him. Their eyes are the jury, there is a flicker behind them that tells him they're lying. They're only pretending. And the ties that never existed are severed.

He drops to his knees, but he does not cringe as the carpet fibres burn into his skin. He turns his palms upwards and raises his head to feel the sun filtered through the stained glass window prickle across his skin. He came here to remind himself that it was only God who judged him. But it seemed he saw God in everybody nowadays, yet the presence was empty, there was no meaning or impact, like a sledgehammer crashing through his skull. No, they only dented his skin, leaving tiny bruises that spread deeper than the surface, like an iceburg of disbelief.

Why do people lie? Is it merely to spare feelings? To cover their own emotions? What was the point, he thinks to himself. The alter sways before him, the crucifix shiny and gold, mocking him with its dazzling conviction. _Only God can judge me_, he repeats it like a mantra.

But he knows it's not only God judging. His brothers, his label, his friends, his fans, all of them have lies and criticism in their every movement. He can tell by an irksome twitch, a crinkle of the mouth, a shrug, a sigh, all indicators that he has done something wrong. And he doesn't know what he can do to make it right. He doesn't want to change or conform, but he doesn't want to be alone either. And as time goes by he's only feeling more and more detached, the indicators are louder, brighter, they stop him in his tracks.

He wants to scream at the sky, into the high ceiling, make the world around him shake and crumble. The insecurities are sucking him into a dark place inside himself, and he wants so desperately for something, for someone, to show him the light.

Slowly he shakes his head, pushing himself up and away from the wide room that's supposed to have all the answers. But his rhetorical questions laugh and echo around him, and he wonders if this is it, if this is all it will ever be, if it is all worth it just to feel like this. Acceptance lessens the blows but it still knocks him sideways.

He staggers towards the dark wooden doors, eager to escape from the oppressive space around him. He pulls forcefully on a large brass knocker just as the heavy door swings open from the other side. The unexpected lack of weight jars his elbows and he yelps in surprise and pain. An apologetic face appears and it's not the first time he's seen it.

"I'm so sorry, Nick!" Macy looks genuinely concerned, but it's really human nature to feign guilt to ease your conscience.

"It's okay," he replies blankly, the phrase clawing its way out of his mouth.

"Are you alright?" her voice is sweet, running over him like a glaze. "We've been looking for you everywhere."

"I'm fine," his reply is clipped, what did she care anyway? "I've been here."

"Why?" she says as the bells begin to chime above them, and it resonates within him like the metal melody that rumbles across the city.

His hand shoots out and grips her upper arm tightly, like it's the only thing left he has to hold onto. "Tell me a lie, Macy."

"What?" She's not sure if she's misheard him over the bells, or she just doesn't understand the simple request that he's made of her.

"Lie to me," he hisses through his gritted teeth, and the emptiness of his voice sends a chill up her spine.

"Nick, you're scaring me," her eyes flick down to his relentless hold on her arm, and back up to his cold gaze.

He grimaces and pushes her up against the wall, no so violently as to hurt her, but enough to make her heart race with panic.

"That's the truth," his breath is hot on her face. "I want you to lie."

"Nick, I don't… I can't," her eyes are filling with confused tears and pity takes a bite out of his demeanour.

"Tell me that you don't trace my every step like you were wishing it was next to you," his frown deepens as he edges his face closer to hers. "Tell me you don't think about what it would be like to be with me."

"I can't," her breath catches in her throat, and there is a pool that has escaped the confines of her eyelid and is slowly trickling down her left cheek.

"Why not?" He can't believe that this is him speaking, that the growl from the back of his throat is forming the words that should remain in his mind.

"Because it wouldn't be a lie."

For a moment he remembers himself, why it's so wrong for her to be backed up against a wall with the brick grating at her soft skin, but then she bites her lip and he realises she's just as thrilled about this as she is terrified. His arms drop to his sides but the distance between them doesn't change. Her brow creases in compassion and she reaches up to cup his face in her hands, stroking at the curls beside his ears with her thumbs.

"What's going on in there, huh?" she tilts his head up to stare into his eyes, trying to decipher the complexity of his outburst, the tearstain still sliced across her face. "Why are you so sad?"

"Nothing is real," he breaks for the first time ever, resting his weary head on her shoulder, and she envelops him in her arms as his wraps himself around her waist.

"Everything is real," she whispers in his ear. It gives him such a rush that he bunches her shirt into his fists. "I'm here. I'm real."

He attaches his lips to the space between her neck and collarbone, opening his mouth slightly and letting his tongue drift across her vanilla scented skin. She gasps and digs her nails into his back, and the shock and sting awakens something within him, making him bite down softly.

Her fingers carve up and down his spine, burying themselves in his hair and pulling him back, breaking his attachment. He gets one quick glance at the small patch of broken blood vessels underneath her skin and the hungry look of truth in her eyes before her lips are on his, her hips pressed firmly against the twitching in his groin, their hands are everywhere, their breathing is laboured and sweat and saliva are the new ecstasy.

A cough from behind them startles them from their fervour. An unhappy, condescending priest is glaring at them, but before he can open his mouth to scold them, the two passionate teenagers are out the door, running down the street, hand in hand.

They hurtle past cars, under streetlights, through alleyways and even past his worried brothers and best friend in the park, who have been out searching for him after dark and need an explanation, but all they receive is "Macy found me."

Indoors they find sanctuary; the unbridled fever that emerged at the church reclaims him twofold, and with blood pounding in his veins, he falls into love with her and lust reclaims them. Clothes are discarded and they're ripping at each other's skin, like it too needs be shed so they can taste the honesty. Lips are merged as one and their sweat mingles as the atmosphere thickens. The world is spinning faster at yet it also seems to have stopped, but even if it did he wouldn't care because he's only living for this, for her.

She's panting against his shoulder and he groans in rapture as her teeth attach themselves to his earlobe. He swears she's holding onto him so tightly he's bleeding, but he feels no pain and so he just holds on tighter. There's a moment of no return where there is nothing but darkness and bliss, before they sink back into the sheets in exhaustion.

"Macy," he exhales, kissing her cheek. "Thank you for not lying."

"You were only lying to yourself," she strokes the underside of his jaw softly.

He's not quite sure what she means, so he doesn't reply because it would ruin the moment. But for now his faith is restored in his life, in his purpose, and he's not so alone anymore.

They fall asleep with their legs intertwined and the love bites blossoming as the fingernail marks fade.

* * *

**a/n: UUUH WHUT :/  
****p.s. howl – florence & the machine**


End file.
